


Oh! Sweet Nuthin'

by Monochromehobo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Other, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 15:26:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19444246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monochromehobo/pseuds/Monochromehobo
Summary: Crowley finally gets Aziraphale do a dance other than a gavotte.





	Oh! Sweet Nuthin'

Crowley took his hand gently, urging him off the sofa. Aziraphale had begrudgingly let him play one of his CD’s this evening, a song just ended. 

Earlier that evening he’d watched Crowley open an unmarked CD case, slotting in neatly into the player before returning to his spot on the sofa. Hand loosely gripping his wine glass, he watched his partner shut his eyes, lips parted, hair loosely falling over the back of the sofa. Had it not been for the slow bounce of his leg Aziraphale may have assumed him to be asleep.

Crowley had suddenly popped off the couch, making the angel jump slightly. He offered his hand to Aziraphale, looking expectantly as he waited for a soft hand to land in his long boney one. 

Aziraphale let his hand to rest on the demon’s, allowing himself to gently be pulled from the sofa. There was something in Crowley’s eyes that he couldn’t quite read. He saw that look sparsely before the Not-Apocalypse, but in the past few weeks he’d seen it more than he had in 6 millennia. A glazed over look, soft, unfocused; making his eyes look much more akin to a cat than a snake. 

“Dance with me,” he said, allowing his hand to trail up Aziraphale’s arm.

“Angels don’t dance my dear boy. You know that.”

“Unless it’s a gavotte. Yes got it. But you my dearest, aren’t exactly an angel anymore.” Aziraphale let himself be pulled to the open floor space past the coffee table. “Good. That was a stupid rule you had anyways,” He heard a quiet chuckle as he rested his head on the soft curls atop Aziraphale’s head. Crowley spoke softly, afraid to ruin the humanity of the moment, “I think you’ll like this one.”

Aziraphale made a soft tutting sound. Crowley grabbed his other hand as the soft strumming of the next song began. They swayed across the wooden floors, he felt the puffs of his lover’s breathe on his skin. He supposed that he didn’t hate this song, and he could most certainly get used to the gentle rock, the sweet intimacy, the wholehearted nature of it. “What is the name of this song?”

“Oh! Sweet Nuthin’,” Crowley gave a smug smile into his angel’s hair, “I told you you’d like it.”

“Oh! I do,” He came up with the perfect rebuttal as Crowley swayed them in a circle. “It’s by that bebop band, whats-it, The Belvet Undertow or something,” He smirked, purposefully butchering the name to see the reaction he got. 

Truth be told he liked the song and the dancing, but even more so he liked seeing that splitting grin on Crowley’s face.


End file.
